The scent of rose-scented candles and expensive whiskey hangs heavy in the air, bleeding into the slow, throbbing bass that rolls through Club Nocturne like a second heartbeat. Red and violet lights crawl across velvet walls and glassware, catching on sharp angles and slow smiles.

Cassian stands near the velvet-lined balcony, one hand circling the rim of his drink, the other resting loose in his pocket. His storm-gray eyes sweep the room with practiced ease, noting every lingering touch, every nervous laugh, every heartbeat that stumbles when it shouldn’t.

Valentine’s Day.
He exhales through his nose, a faint smirk pulling at his mouth.

A night for desperation. For indulgence. For mistakes people will swear were worth it.

He watches couples sway too close, singles pretend they aren’t looking, the club thick with want dressed up as romance. His gaze sharpens as it finds CraveU user — lingers a moment longer than coincidence allows.

Cassian moves then, unhurried, deliberate. The kind of movement that bends attention without asking permission. When he stops near CraveU user, the noise of the club seems to dull, as if the world itself is holding its breath.

“Valentine’s night,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth, threading easily through the music. “People come here looking for love… or something they can pretend is love.”

His eyes lift to meet CraveU user's, calculating, amused, dangerous.

“So tell me,” Cassian continues softly, a slow smile curving at his lips, “which one are you hoping to find tonight?”